


No Words

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Metro 2033 - All Media Types, Metro: Last Light
Genre: Gift for lateness, I'm Sorry Cheyenne!, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel has never had the soulmate words on his wrist like everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Words

The Metro was an unfriendly place. There were thieves, beggars, soldiers, murderers and ruffians. All kinds of things from the old world still resided here, and one of those things were the soulmate words. 

Pavel had once asked his mother about it, before the rain of fire and debris and radiation that destroyed Moscow. He had shown her his bare wrist, no fancy writing on it like on the other kids at school. He remembered Ruslov's words, even now -  _Spider!_ Turns out this was more than a little true when Ruslov met Katria in the Metro, where she had yelped when the mutated anti-light creatures snuck up on them in the darkness. 

Still, his wrist was bare. 

It was not a common occurrence before the bombings, but he seen many adults and even some other children without words either after. His mother had explained, very nicely, that many people died above during the nuclear firestorm. Families lost mommies and daddies and even children. Once your soulmate is gone, she said, the words disappear. 

For a long time, Pavel wondered whether or not his soulmate had perished in the wartime flames. But then, he had never had them. Maybe he was just unlucky. So, instead, he decided that what he really wanted to do was make sure no one had to undergo the pain of looking at a bare wrist like his. 

So, he joined the Red Line. 

* * *

It was a strange turn of events, really. He never expected to be caught following the Ranger, let alone by Nazis. But, well, here he was, ready to get shot by the fascist bastards. 

A smaller, paler man - the Ranger he'd been following - heaved himself up, looking warily at the Nazi officer. He watched, unflinchingly, as the Hansa man was shot and killed. 

_Mutant my ass._

But, Pavel had bigger worries than some man he'd never met, despite knowing that somewhere, a name or a word or a phrase was fading from someone's arm. His comrade spit at the officer and took a bullet to the head for his troubles. 

_Yikes._

There had to be a way out of this. If this other man, his frame smaller than Pavel's own and his face slightly more blank, was actually from the Spartan Order, then maybe he stood a fighting chance. 

Just maybe. 

* * *

 

It was all very rushed. He wrapped his arms around the officer's underling and pulled him back, allowing the other man to shoot him. He then stabbed the officer before handing the knife off to his new friend. The man quickly cut his bindings, but didn't move for the one gun in the room. Instead, Pavel picked it up. The man offered the knife back, but Pavel just smiled, a little shaken, but mostly grateful. 

"You can keep the knife. Grunts have to stick together, davai. N-Now, what did he say about a garbage ch-chute?"

* * *

 

 

The internment camps were brutal. The stench of the people and the rot on their bodies was atrocious. It made him hate the Nazis even more, not that he needed more reasons. 

What he was most impressed with was the Ranger. 

The small man was resourceful and stealthy, despite being no more than twenty-two years old at most. He slit throats like he was born for it, killed without mercy and did everything he had to do to escape, no matter who he had to cut down to do it with nary a sound. And yet, when they reached the top of the control tower, he walked over to the control panels without a word and freed the prisoners. He watched for a moment as the freed captive 'mutants' ran free, then turned and walked back over to Pavel, waiting for him to lead the way. Respect and trust welled in his soul for this man, even though he didn't know his name. 

Despite the Ranger not having said a word, it was nice to have him there. He could have sworn he heard a chuckle at some of his more outrageous comments. 

It felt like real company.

* * *

 

He didn't know how it had happened, but Pavel was telling the Ranger all different stories about his life, about his experiences and about his reasons. He told him all about why he had joined the Red Line, why he would lay his life down for it and anything else that he normally didn't or couldn't tell anyone else. His comrades would judge him if he said the 'wrong' thing, but this Ranger seemed even more impartial than normal. But then, when he would stop and look back at him, the smaller man would smile and nod, encouraging him to continue. 

* * *

 

The Ranger was like a blessing when Pavel was caught again. 

Like a shadow on the wall, the Ranger swept through the room. Long periods of silence overcame the frantic, panting gasps of the guards until suddenly there was one less flashlight. And finally, when the last one fell, the Ranger stepped out into the artificial light, a tiny shit-eating grin on his face. It changed quickly to seriousness as he cut Pavel down. 

"I knew you would come for me." Pavel grinned. The Ranger smiled shyly back and nodded. 

* * *

When they were free of the Nazi complexes, the man stopped him, tugging lightly on his sleeve. 

"What is it, friend?"

The man smiled slowly, almost boyishly. Slowly, he took off his left glove and pulled up his left sleeve.

_You can keep the knife._

At first, it made no sense. 

"Why are you showing me your words?"

The Ranger rolled his eyes and pulled out the very knife that Pavel had given him. 

_"You can keep the knife."_

_Oh._ "Oh." Pavel breathed. "Well, I'm sorry  to be the bearer of bad news, but I don't have any words-"

The look the Ranger was giving him stopped him short. The smaller man pulled out a marker and pulled Pavel's dominant hand towards him, yanking up the sleeve to reveal the pale, wordless skin. The felt tip of the marker was cold on his skin, but he dealt with it to see the words the Ranger wrote there. 

_I'm Artyom. I'm mute._

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Whispers and Flickers of Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4209768) by [RedMela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedMela/pseuds/RedMela)




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